


(Extra) Terrestrial

by CGotAnAccount



Series: (Extra) Terrestrial [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Mating Bites, Alien Biology, Established Relationship, Katt - Freeform, M/M, Post Kerb, Shenanigans, pre-kerb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: “I think his mom was an alien.”“...”“Makes sense right?” Matt grins at him, eyebrows wiggling furiously. “A poor little orphan, no memory of his mysterious mother, dad lived in the middle of the desert... it could totally happen.”“I hate you,” Shiro grunts and readies a glob of potatoes to fling at his best friend. “I want that on the record the next time you come to me with a dumb idea.”“Noted... but you know I'm right.”“Ugh.”
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt & Shiro, Matt Holt/Keith
Series: (Extra) Terrestrial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107269
Comments: 30
Kudos: 131





	(Extra) Terrestrial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jimenko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimenko/gifts).



> For KimMe, thank you so much for the wonderful prompt!! <33

It's a Thursday when Matt pops up out of the blue, dropping his lunch tray on the table with a clatter that earns him an arched eyebrow.

“Shiro, when you were still a skinny bitch how much could you lift?”

His friend's eyebrows switch as Shiro continues to chew on his rubbery meatloaf, taking his sweet time to gnaw through the bite he's been working on for the last two minutes. He finally swallows with a grimace and a shrug.

“Like, bench? I dunno... maybe like two twenty-five? Not like when we got here though...”

“Right, but like, you're strong right?” Matt presses, a strange gleam in his eye as he leans closer across the table. “What if you were, say... Keith's size?”

Shiro snorts into his government issued milk carton, sending a spray of questionable dairy-foam at Matt. “I don't think I've ever been Keith's size... not since I was like eleven.”

“That's fair.” Matt nods to himself, long fingers tapping against his chin as he squints off into the middle distance toward the plethora of motivational propaganda posters littering the walls. “But say like... muscle-tone wise... he's pretty lean, right?”

Shiro cuts him a hard side-eye as he picks his knife back up to have another go at the meat-rubber. “I'm not really in the business of checking out your boyfriend.”

“Oh come on,” Matt scoffs, flapping a hand at him as he begins his futile sawing, “You're his mentor or whatever... you're supposed to know if he's eating his broccoli and wheaties and all that. You'd know if he was all xylophone ribs too.”

“Matt.” Shiro heaves a long suffering sigh and gives up on trying to take on the meatloaf in single combat. “What's your point here? I haven't been anywhere near Keith size in just about anything since I stepped in here with noodle arms as a cadet.”

“I just need comparison data,” Matt shrugs, like he's not cementing his place as the world's most awkward conversationalist.

Shiro's lips press thin as he goes for the lump of probably-potatoes. “Is this some weird sex thing? He could probably lift you.”

“ _No_ ,” Matt sniffs, as if he has any claim to even an air of dignity. “And I already know he can... easily.”

“Ugh.”

Matt isn't sure if the grunt is directed at him or the lunch.

“I just think it's kinda odd that he's so, well... little?” he continues on anyway, ignoring the fact that Shiro looks like he's ready to choke himself on a bite of meatloaf to escape. “He's like freakishly strong for his size.”

“So?” Shiro shrugs, avoiding Matt's manic eye contact like it might save him from whatever idea he has this time. “Some people just have a naturally high strength to weight ratio.”

“I think his mom was an alien.”

“...”

“Makes sense right?” Matt grins at him, eyebrows wiggling furiously. “A poor little orphan, no memory of his mysterious mother, dad lived in the middle of the desert... it could totally happen.”

“I hate you,” Shiro grunts and readies a glob of potatoes to fling at his best friend. “I want that on the record the next time you come to me with a dumb idea.”

“Noted... but you know I'm right.”

“Ugh.”

He's joking of course, mostly. Keith's mom isn't actually an alien. Probably.

She's probably like one of those weird really skinny people who win hotdog eating contests and never show it – or those moms who lift cars off their kids. Come to think of it, he doesn't know a whole lot about Keith's dad either... Keith mentioned once that his dad was a big guy – big enough that he used to carry Keith around on his shoulders wherever he went when they would go hiking... but Keith's awfully small, so maybe that doesn't actually mean much.

Maybe it's a combination of the two, like he didn't get his dad's height, but he got his burliness on the down-low, and he got his mom's hotdog eating ability to put away food.

Or maybe he's just hungry from a few years of neglect, who knows. Either way, Matt is perfectly content to keep feeding and watering him until he grows into his bright flowery self or whatever... you know, supportive boyfriend stuff.

Whatever that is. Frankly he's not even sure if he's good at this whole thing, he's never had to do it before – but neither has Keith, and so far it seems to be working out pretty well. Especially since Keith is like, objectively the most gorgeous person on this base, bar none. Matt might've had his first sexual identity crisis when he found out he had to share a locker room with Shiro, but it was nothing like watching Keith walk into the flight sims at Shiro's side, all shaggy hair and flashing eyes. He's pretty sure he swallowed his own tongue.

He definitely almost navigated them into a cliff 'cause he was too busy drooling over the other cadet's profile. He's just glad those two are good enough pilots to preserve his dignity when his brain decided to dribble out his ears in a moment of thirst.

Either way, apparently incompetence is endearing because he walked out of that sim with a standing lunch date. Or rather, Shiro told Keith he should eat with them everyday, but really that's semantics.

The important part is that somehow, against all odds, he's managed to convince Keith that he should date him... and not only that... _Somehow_ he's pretty sure he's managed to find the guy who's just as weird as he is, and he _really_ likes him. No known science could have predicted the intensity of his feelings, and frankly it's a little exhilarating. Maybe even like what those nerds feel like in their jets.

Keith is definitely something special. Odd, for sure, but in a good way. Like the fact that Matt knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he saw him benching Shiro's usual weight the other day, and he's about half the size of him. Not only that, but Matt once slipped on a spot of grease in the hangars, and Keith had him swept up into his arms like some sort of fairy-tale prince before his brain even registered the fact that he was about to fall on his face.

It's nifty.

Two months later it's a little more than nifty.

Matt is about ninety-eight percent sure that Keith's eyes reflect light like a cat. They'd been getting steamy back in Matt's quarters since he's got a single unit as an older cadet, rounding third base in a break between classes, and for once Keith's eyes weren't scrunched shut when he spilled all over Matt's fist.

And he _swears to god_ that his eyes went all reflectively yellowy-green like Katie's old cat used to. Full on, here there be the tigers, this man can see in the dark, reflectivity. It startled him so badly he missed Keith leaning down to bite into his shoulder, as he does sometimes when he's feeling particularly frisky, and promptly forgot all about it under his boyfriend's magical hands.

Until he sees Shiro, of course.

“Do you think Keith's eyes glow in the dark?” he asks, not bothering with a greeting or a segue, Shiro doesn't appreciate them anyway.

His friend sighs, puts down his highlighter, and closes his notebook before turning toward Matt. “What?”

“You're in the sim with him a lot, and it's pretty dark in there,” Matt explains, because Shiro can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes, “so you'd have probably seen it before if they do.”

“Why would Keith's eyes glow in the dark?”

“Cause his mom's an alien, we've been over this.”

“Right, you're insane,” Shiro grunts, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, “how could I have forgotten?”

“Rude.” Matt tears a corner off the paper sticking out of Shiro's notebook and balls it up to flick at him, ignoring the twitching of his friend's eye and his own sense of self preservation. “I'm just saying, the other day we were uh... _busy_... and his eyes like flashed this yellowy-greeny shit that reflected like when your bastard cat is hiding in the dark waiting to murder you.”

Shiro brushes the wad of paper to the floor and gives him a long look. “There's too much to unpack there for one therapy session, Matt.”

“Good thing I'm not paying you.” He reaches for the other corner, only to have his hand slapped away. “C'moooon, just give me the info and I'll leave you alone.”

“There's nothing to give.” Shiro shrugs at him and scoots his stack of notebooks out of reach. “Maybe they look a little different in the dark, but I always figured it was the lights from the display in the sim, mine might do it too, who knows?”

“C'mon, Shiro... really?” Matt scoffs and tries to scoot closer, only to be kept at bay by a well placed elbow. “You've seen his eyes, there's no way those dreamy violet beauties could ever look anything even close to yellow.”

“You've got it bad,” Shiro snorts and starts gathering his things, thoroughly done with the conversation and Matt's shenanigans in general, “why don't you just ask your lover boy to do some alien things if you're so sure?”

It's no wonder Shiro's relationships never last long if _that's_ the kind of romantic advice he gives – and about his own mentee... shameful.

He makes it a week longer of wondering before cracking. A man needs data, and everyone knows controlled experimentation is the only real way to get it.

“Come on, Kitten... purr for me,” he coos, rolling his hips up into his boyfriend as Keith pants and writhes on top of him. “You look so pretty up there... feel even better.”

“Matt-” Keith moans his name, hands curling where they're braced on his chest. His fingernails leave faint lines of fire in their wake, but it only spurs him on.

“You like it when I call you pretty?” Matt asks, tightening his hands on Keith's hips as he nods in response. “You are, sweetheart... you are so gorgeous... let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Keith's breath hitches at the compliment, mouth dropping open to reveal a set of teeth Matt _swears_ are fangs, but more importantly, his eyes.

He's so fucking pretty, even when they're glinting the low light back at him, almost golden over the deep violet. Matt is so lucky. Lucky enough to know that whatever is special about Keith, he's never going to let it go.

“There you are, baby,” he breathes, biting his own lip as Keith smiles down at him, one hand reaching up to cup Matt's cheek as they rock together. “Look at you, you don't even know do you?”

Keith flushes all the way down his chest, an almost lilac tinge to it as he leans low and slows to a grind where he's seated and filled. “Know what?”

“How special you are.” It's easy to say, easy as breathing, because it's absolutely true. “How much you mean to me...”

“ _Matt_ ,” Keith whines, dropping even lower to bury his face in Matt's collarbone, hiding from the praise that Matt's determined to bury him in until he accepts it as fact.

“Kitten.” He lets one hand slide from Keith's hip all the way up his spine until he can bury it in his hair, pulling him close enough to press a kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

Keith sobs and clenches around him, and those are _definitely_ claws that bury themselves into Matt's shoulder, but he's not going to complain when he's getting wrung dry in the very best way. Not when Keith finally stops shuddering against his chest either, his breath evening out under the stroking of Matt's palm until there's nothing left but a quiet rattle.

Almost like...

“Are you... purring?” Matt whispers, his smile curling against Keith's hair.

It stutters, then stops as Keith tenses. “No.”

“It was cute, whatever it was.” He keeps his hand moving in soothing circles until Keith relaxes again. “You know every part of you is perfect to me.”

“I know,” Keith whispers, his voice colored with something a little like disbelief.

The quiet rattle picks up again, and he decides to keep this one to himself.

“I was right, you know.” He can't resist poking at Shiro as he slides into his usual lab bench with the air of someone who is privy to one of life's greatest secrets. “Definitely an alien.”

“Or, you know, your boyfriend.” Shiro sighs, looking for a moment like he might get up and switch partners for the first time in four years. “I know you're into that whole monster fucker thing, but really? Isn't this a reach?”

Matt sniffs and whacks him with his tablet, offended on both of their behalves. “I didn't say he was a monster, asshole... you're just jealous I'm the first human to have uh... _relations_ with an alien.”

“That would be his dad,” Shiro grunts, and then immediately puts a hand to his face, like he's ashamed of himself for engaging.

“I thought about that too,” Matt nods, only a little deflated. “Maybe his dad was like... a human alien.”

“Matt, you're my best friend, which is why I say this with love... you're insane.”

“You always have been the unimaginative one.” Matt shrugs, utterly unperturbed. “Wanna see the marks he left last night? Whole sets of puncture wounds, Shiro... claws _and_ fangs. I hit the jackpot.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud as he offers up a judgmental glance. “I hope you hit the antibiotic ointment too, mouths are filthy.”

“And his fingers weren't clean either.” Matt wiggles his eyebrows just to watch Shiro grimace at him. “Don't worry, half-aliens probably don't carry the same diseases.”

“... I hate you.”

Keith is, objectively, a thing of beauty wherever he goes. When he goes to the gym, Matt also goes... as his spotter of course.

“You know spotting doesn't mean you just look at me, right?” Keith laughs as he lifts a bar that's easily twice Matt's weight. “If I start to drop this thing on my face you're supposed to catch it.”

“You won't though.” Matt shrugs and continues his ogling from where he's stationed himself, thighs bracketing Keith's head so he can lean back and watch his whole body flex. “You're my big, strong man.”

“Pffftttt-” Keith wheezes out, arms shaking from the laughter as he tips it back and re-racks the bar. “You are actively unhelpful here.”

“You're actively a hottie,” Matt chirps back, holding up his pad to take a picture of Keith all sweaty and glowing as he smiles up at him. “I'm not gonna miss this free show.”

“I should charge you,” Keith grunts, rolling his head to the side so he can kiss the inside of Matt's knee. “maybe recoup some of my losses every time I bet against you on something.”

“You should know better by now,” Matt agrees as he cards his fingers through the dark, sweaty locks between his legs, “but you'll learn eventually... I'm all knowing, all seeing...”

“All bullshit,” Keith teases him and rolls himself upright, not fighting the way Matt scoots himself up to cling to his sweaty back like a limpet. “You're gonna get all sweaty.”

Matt shrugs and nuzzles in closer, pressing his lips to the join of Keith's neck and shoulder. “Maybe they'll think I exercised all by myself and let me out of my mandatory conditioning.”

Keith's snort is almost offensive, if he didn't punctuate it by tangling their fingers together around his waist. “I don't think even Iverson and his one eyeball would be blind enough to fall for that.”

“Rude,” Matt grunts, sinking his teeth in gently, right where Keith always bites on his neck.

The effect is instantaneous – and startling. A moan that practically echoes in the definitely not empty gym, combined with an almost obscene arch of his back as Keith's hips roll forward.

“Holy fuck-” Matt sputters, pulling his mouth away as Keith pants in his arms like they're about to go for round two. “Are you okay-”

“Do it again,” Keith practically growls – or it might be one if it wasn't so breathy. “Please, Matt, do it again-”

And Matt is only a man, weak to the whims of his boyfriend. He bites again, harder this time, and Keith looks and sounds like he's about to blow his load right in the middle of the gym at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

“God, _fuck_ -” He's panting, writhing in Matt's arms, and Matt's pretty sure they're about to get themselves labeled more than 'the gross couple' in about two seconds if he doesn't get him back to a bed, or really anywhere else.

“C'mon, Kitten.” He slides back far enough to throw a leg over the bench, tugging Keith along by their joined hands and _yeap_ that's definitely an incredibly obvious bulge in Keith's shorts. “C'mere, locker room-”

Keith whines, but lets himself be led. He's flushed that same lilac down into the collar of his shirt, and Matt kinda wants to poke out the eyeballs of anybody else who might notice it.

Thankfully, the locker room is empty when he tugs Keith back to the showers, pushing him into a stall before dragging the curtain shut behind them. He doesn't have one single fuck to give about someone seeing both pairs of their shoes on the bench, if he doesn't get this man naked right now he's going to lose it.

“Off,” he grunts, tugging Keith's shirt up with one hand and yanking on the drawstrings of his shorts with the other. “Wanna feel you.”

Keith obeys in a daze, shucking his clothes and handing them over, not protesting when Matt turns the spray on and presses him against the tile. And why would he? The guy is leaking like a faucet, so turned on just from a little biting that it's a wonder he didn't make a mess of his shorts right there on the bench. His eyes are blown, pupils eating up the violet that Matt loves to look at, but the edges are tinged almost yellow...

More pressing are the sharp nails digging into his hips, and the edge of a fang sunk into Keith's bottom lip.

“Matt, please-”

“I got you.” He wraps a hand around them, stroking their tips together as the scalding water soaks them to the bone. It's easy to tangle his fingers in Keith's wet hair, tipping his head to the side _just so_ , leaning down and-

“ _Aaahh!_ ”

Keith spatters both of their stomachs immediately with a cry that bounces off the tile. If anyone was around and didn't know what they were up to before, they certainly do now... not that Matt's concerned about that at all, because his boyfriend is still hard and heavy in his hand, despite having painted the evidence of his enjoyment all over their skin.

That won't do at all.

He hits the tile with a wet smack that his knees are definitely going to regret later, and takes Keith down before he can catch his breath. There's a heady tang to him, familiar by now and certainly not unpleasant, and the smell of him this close seems magnified by the sweat and steam filling up the stall. Matt gleefully attempts to choke himself, burying his nose in Keith's navel as those sharp-tipped fingers curl into the nape of his neck. They try to tug him back, but he swallows around the sensitive tip pressed against his throat and they quickly acquiesce to his desires.

Stroking himself with his free hand is almost an afterthought, lost as he is to the way Keith begins to rock into his mouth, guiding him to open up as a thumb swipes the water from his face. He's curled over him almost protectively, shielding Matt from the worst of the stinging spray, ever thoughtful as he fucks into his throat.

He loves him dearly.

So much that he pulls off to tell him so, voice utterly wrecked and lips swollen red.

“ _Matt_ -” Keith groans, hauling him up into a bruising kiss as he grinds against Matt's thigh. “Fuck, how are you so perfect-”

“Should be asking you.” Matt nips at his lip, daring him to disagree. “My pretty Kitten...”

Keith shudders against him, swelling where he's pressed against Matt, and then he's leaning down and sinking his own teeth into Matt's neck again, leaving them with matching claims.

Before Keith, Matt wouldn't have claimed to be into pain in any form, but he can't deny the way it zings through him, wringing out every bit of pleasure as he collapses against his boyfriend, trusting him not to let him slip and die on the tile.

Keith doesn't, of course. He's too busy licking over the bite mark to let him go, a purr rumbling in his chest as he keeps a proprietary grip on the back of Matt's neck. It's weird and oh so wonderful.

Matt definitely doesn't preen at their matching teeth imprints in the mirror on their way out of the locker room.

“Can you get off twice in a row?” he asks before Shiro can see him coming and flee, effectively trapping him in with a chair behind his, like he's double parking hoverbikes in the garage. “Cause I can't.”

Shiro sighs. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days.

“Hi Matt, my day has been great, thanks for asking.”

“Hi Shiro, how's your day? Were you able to get off twice in a row?” Matt tries again and lets his grin grow, pitching his voice just a touch too loud for the library.

“The _worst_ ,” Shiro hisses as a group of first year cadets glance over, giggling among themselves. “Can't I have one day of peace?”

“I didn't see you yesterday,” Matt points out, all smiles even as Shiro begins to rub at his temples. It must be hard to have to pretend to be all straight laced – especially since Matt knows from Keith that Shiro enjoys activities just as reckless as his own preferences, if of a less explosive flavor of stupid.

“Fine,” Shiro groans, because he's a good friend. “No, not immediately... dare I ask why?”

His smile is full on Cheshire cat now, telling Shiro all he needs to know.

“That doesn't mean he's an alien... he's a teenager, they just... do that.”

Matt keeps grinning, nothing bothering to argue with him.

“I'm just saying, it's impressive, right? Interesting... an abnormality one might even say.”

“You're an abnormality,” Shiro mutters.

“I know, my brain is a stunning example of gigantism in humans, just like my d-”

As it turns out, Shiro's hand is big enough to clamp over his entire face.

“Matt, please.... _please,_ I'm literally begging you.” Shiro looks like a haunted man, even though he's currently capable of smushing Matt's skull like a ripe tomato. “I don't ever _ever_ want to hear about your dick, or what you do with it. You're like a ken doll to me. Keith likes you for your personality... he's a ken doll too.”

And really, that's fair. Aside from the initial day or two of gay panic, the thought of Shiro in any sort of sexual capacity is vaguely unsettling. He probably gives his partner golden sticky stars after the fact, or spends the entire time giving them erotic shoulder touches and calling them 'bud'.

Regardless, he waffles his hand in the air, the universal 'fair enough' gesture of their friendship, and revels in the breath of air that doesn't smell like Shiro's hands when his head is released.

“He's not,” Matt chirps, unable to resist one last poke, “but he's so cute, ain't he?”

“Adorable,” Shiro grunts, then pauses and casts him a pitying look. “What are you two doing for Kerberos?”

“What do you mean?” Matt can feel his brows furrow at the question, he's obviously going on the mission, they've been training together for months now.

“I mean like... are you doing long distance?” Shiro shrugs with the air of a newly single man, utterly worry free going into the longest mission of their careers thus far. “It's gonna be nearly two years for the trip.”

“I'm not dumping him, if that's what you're asking.” Matt can't help his scowl, even as Shiro raises his hands defensively. “Besides, maybe I'll meet his mom up there or something.”

Shiro's aborted laugh sounds like a dog horking up its dinner, like his self control came face to face with the truth and lost. It's beautiful, and Matt will cherish the moment forever.

“Hah!” He points at Shiro, jabbing him in the shoulder with a bony finger. “You laughed, that means you know I'm right!”

“It means I know you're stupid,” Shiro laughs again and palms the side of Matt's head until he successfully pushes him off the chair and frees himself. “Have you told Keith about your theory yet? Should I be upset that you're going to bring back a present that's way cooler than my moon rocks?”

“Nah,” Matt grins up at him from the floor like it's where he'd planned to be the whole time. “That's not great pillow talk... plus it'll be a surprise right?”

“...sure, Matt.”

Keith takes the run-up to the launch with so much grace that Matt actually does start to wonder if his idea of a terrible joke might've been right the whole time. There's no way a normal dude would be so cool with his boyfriend hurling himself into space for two years, but Keith's been nothing but excited and supportive the entire time. Any time Matt thinks that surely he's stepped on a landmine bringing it up, Keith just smiles at him and reaches out to stroke the mark on the side of his neck – the bite mark that never quite healed past the shiny scarring stage, much to Shiro's casual horror.

He's almost _too_ okay with it, so Matt tried his damnedest to bite Keith just as hard to see if it was some freaky territorial thing – but mostly he just felt bad when Keith's neck looked like a massacre the next day. Shiro hadn't quite liked that either, and had hauled Keith off to the med-bay to get him a double shot of antibiotics, but the bitten man himself hasn't stopped preening over it since, so who knows.

It did kinda make Matt feel better... like even though he's going to be billions of miles away there's still a part of him embedded in the feisty punk that ransacked his life and stole his heart.

The night before launch Keith is all too human, curled up on his chest and snoring softly. His eyes, the ones Matt had spent long minutes staring into before Keith drifted off, are deep blue-violet. His cheeks are pink where they're pressed against Matt's collarbone. His hair is soft and silky like the inky midnight hour.

He commits this very human boy to memory – a moment to tide him over for two years of sparse communication. A moment to recall fondly when longing gets to be choking in the depths of space, and the doubts start to creep in.

Right here, right now, he has everything he could want in his arms, and he loves every inch of him.

* * *

It's funny then, in a terribly unfunny way, that a year later the menacing yellow gleam in his captors' eyes only serves to remind him of better times and the boy he's staying alive for. He'd laugh at the way they avoid Keith's bite mark, eyeing him warily like he's some warrior that took on a beast that mauled his neck and lived. If he could speak whatever garbled hateful nonsense they're grunting at him he might even let them know his boyfriend is just kinky.

But probably not... it's nice to be intimidating for once.

Somehow, it all goes to shit in a way that isn't too bad for Matt. Shiro becomes high mucky-muck alien slayer, him and dad get put in a lab turning purple goop yellow, and then suddenly everything is exploding and Shiro is free and some aliens are herding him onto a ship and he's got clean pants again.

Really, the pants are the best part of the whole deal... these people really don't seem to get basic hygiene – if you're gonna kidnap so many aliens you might as well put in the bare minimum of effort to keep your ship from stinking.

But maybe they don't have noses, who knows? He's never really met an alien before... they could have an entirely different olfactory system going on up in their noggins. He hopes they do though, if only so someone else had to suffer the smell of his rags after so many months in captivity.

Either way, freedom is nice – even if he's stuck billions of miles from home and his dad is who knows where and his best friend had his arm lopped off and his boyfriend thinks he's dead and...

Keith.

He can't imagine what the poor guy has gone through – his best friend and his boyfriend launched into space, probably presumed dead, no family... fuck. He'd give anything for the chance to talk to him one more time, to tell him he loves him, even if he dies out in space in this godforsaken intergalactic race war. All he wanted to do was collect some fucking ice and go home and live happily ever after with his fly boy. But no... now aliens are real, and not just some little green dudes, and he's probably never going to see him again because some asshole space cats decided to launch a hostile takeover.

This is not what he meant when he joked to Shiro about wanting to find intelligent alien life – but he's not going to take this shit lying down either, so he hitches up his new clean pants and he starts to train – first on whatever weird new tech the rebels can get for him to tinker with, and then with those bullshit whacking sticks that his two favorite idiots used to beat each other with in the gym.

Keith would be proud of him, probably... he's finally doing exercise things, and it only took the impending threat of death and intergalactic war to get him there. He just wishes that they could be that gross couple that holds each other's feet for sit-ups with smooches, and not him stranded alone on this rebel asteroid having to wipe slime off the whacking sticks after the alien with the tentacles uses them.

Still, it's better than being dead or stuck in a lab doing nefarious things for nefarious people, probably.

But then things start to change for their little rebellion.

After months of scrapes and skirmishes, they begin to gain ground in quadrants that had previously been incontestable empire strongholds. Fleets that had been the bane of their existence show up as little more than raggedy foot patrols, taken down by guerrilla groups wielding old blasters in rust bucket jets and Matt's communications jammer tech... and then the Blades show up.

The first ones nearly scare him half to death, materializing out of nowhere with their magic knives and penchant for mayhem on a routine sabotage mission. He's been a big fan ever since, even if they side-eye him for the bite mark on his neck too... must be a galra thing. Together they tackle half a quadrant, then the other half, slowly unraveling years of occupation while the empire is distracted half the universe away.

And what a distraction it is.

Voltron is flashy as hell, all bells and whistles and flaming swords – and it doesn't hurt that they've been carving through fleets like tissue paper, leaving the rebels to quietly disrupt supplies and communications in corners where they'd been hunted like roaches just months prior. They even get brave enough to set up a few semi-permanent bunkers complete with fake gravity, though he has to fake his death a few times to shake off the assassins that come with the territory. It's all going swimmingly – new allies, new skills, new lab...

And then the green paladin shows up, and his whole world gets punched in the face.

Literally.

He's not sure who taught Pidge to fight, but he's definitely demanding a rematch once they get back to her castle – and like, really? She gets to live in a castle when he's been living in prisons and space rocks and lairs for a few years? Favoritism at its most blatant. She didn't even hesitate to fire her little spiky grapple thing right into his face, and he totally could have bashed her helmet in like twice.

Not that he would have... but he _could_ have, and he's sure as hell not letting her brag to all her friends that she beat him in a fair fight when she definitely didn't.

Just the fact that she spends the ride back to their base in her lion – her _lion_ – jabbering on and on about her friends is as surprising as anything. Matt had barely heard her say two nice things in a row about anyone in school before, let alone hours about how cool Hunk is, and how great Hunk cooks, and how Hunk doesn't know how to modulate properly... okay so maybe it's mostly about one friend, but it's still an improvement.

“So, what are the rest of them like?”

“Well, Lance is kinda annoying, and you know Shiro of course, and-”

“Shiro made it?!” He nearly lunges out of his seat to grab her by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake the information out of her. “Is he okay? How's his arm? Does he know anything about Dad?”

“Gah!” Pidge swats at him, aiming a kick to his elbow to push him back into his seat as she rights herself and scowls indignantly. “Shiro is _fine_... better than fine really. He kinda disappeared for a minute there, but now that he's back we've been on track again.”

Matt can't help his sigh of relief at the news, like a weight had lifted off his shoulders knowing Shiro hadn't crashed and died after all the bullshit he'd been put through.

The rest of the journey feels like a year and the blink of an eye all at once, and Matt is a ball of nervous energy when the lion finally touches down at their base. Pidge has him by the elbow, practically skipping as she drags him down the gangway, chattering a mile a minute about food goo and cloaking devices and how he's going to have his own room and _dear lord a real bed..._

She's so excited she doesn't even wait for the hanger door to open all the way, yanking him through and around the corner-

-and smack into a hard body.

A pair of hands settle on his hips, steadying him as he lets out a yelp and curses his little sister.

“Slow down, Pidge-” the voice grunts, low and raspy and familiar... and-

“Keith?”

Matt's breath freezes in his lungs as he lifts his chin from the hard chest he'd crashed into, and stares right into a pair of violet eyes he'd nearly given up hope of ever seeing again.

“ _Holy fuck_ -” Keith wheezes, grip becoming iron as he crushes Matt close with a strangled sound, tangling one hand into his hair to grip the back of his neck, “Matt.. is it really you?”

Matt can't help the hysterical laughter that bubbles up out of him, muffled where it's pressed into Keith's shoulder. “Me? You can't believe it's _me?_ ” He lifts his chin to fix Keith with wide eyes, ignoring his own sister boggling at them from a few feet away. “How are you even here?!”

Keith shakes his head, mouth opening and shutting again, and then he crushes their mouths together.

It's like coming home.

Like every missed moment of the last two years, tear soaked and laughing as they cling to each other in the middle of a hallway – in the middle of a war.

“So uh... you two know each other then?” Pidge chimes in, determined to stick her nose into everything of his since the moment she was born. Her grin is all sly and mischievous, like he's never going to hear the end of this.

“No, Pidge,” Matt deadpans as he breaks the kiss, unwilling to separate any farther than he has to from the man he had to leave behind once already. “I just think your friend is _really cute._ ”

“Well, you do think I'm really cute last time I checked,” Keith teases him as he presses a kiss to Matt's temple, and _that's_ new.

“Did you grow?” Matt squints at him, ignoring Keith's grumble as he extricates himself just enough to straighten up and squint at the top of his head. “Well fuck... I think I'm still taller.”

“Barely,” Pidge confirms, winning back one point in her favor, “but he's probably going to get a lot taller now.”

“ _Pidge_ ,” Keith growls out – literally growls – and fuck if that isn't some new kind of sexy. “Shut. Up.”

She shrugs and backs away with her hands in the air and a smirk on her face. “Fine... I'll let you two love birds catch up then... come find me later, Matt.”

“Will do, Pidgeon.” He flicks an absent salute in her direction and lets his hands settle on Keith's chest, taking his time to appreciate the new muscle there. “Damn, you went and got buff!”

Keith grins and flexes for him, then reaches down to grab Matt around the thighs to hoist him up and around his waist. “You're not so bad yourself, Holt... I like your hair.”

That, of all the things, makes him blush.

“Thanks.” He wraps his legs around Keith's waist and loops an arm around his neck as he plucks at his own long bangs. “I didn't really have any space scissors, so...”

“Me neither.” Keith shrugs, hands kneading into the meat of his ass as he tips up to press another kiss against Matt's lips. “I missed you... so much.” He swallows hard then, one long canine worrying against his lips before he meets Matt's eyes. “Can I show you how much?”

Matt's answering kiss is the most enthusiastic 'yes' of his life.

They're pulling at clothing before they even make it to Keith's room, which they reach impressively fast thanks to Keith loping through the halls like he doesn't have a grown man plastered to his front. Matt's bouncing on the bed of a sparsely decorated dorm before he can even blink, crowded in by long arms and lean muscle that presses him back into the pillows.  
“God, I feel like I'm dreaming...” Keith confesses on a shuddering exhale into Matt's mouth, his fingers digging in almost painfully, like he wants the proof of this moment to last. “You're here with me for real this time, right Matt?”

“Always, Kitten.” Matt reaches to cup the back of his neck, pressing down on where he'd laid a messy claim on his boyfriend so long before. “I'm never going to leave you again, okay? It's you and me, no matter what.”

Keith chokes on a sob and crashes down onto him, shredding clothes like the over-eager teenager Matt remembers. It's definitely going to be fast, they're both too keyed up for anything else, but he doesn't mind so much when Keith is writhing against him, mewling and purring and panting like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest.

Matt's pretty sure his already has. It probably punched itself out of his rib cage and lodged itself inside Keith's on that night before launch so long ago, kept safe from the horrors of war, right where it belongs.

“Kitten,” he gasps, hips bucking as Keith slides against him, dragging a sticky trail – and _that_ definitely got bigger too... “bite me-”

Keith lunges before he can even get the words out, teeth sinking into Matt's neck, making his toes curl and sending hot electricity zinging through his veins like licks of fire. He's pretty sure he whites out for a moment, blind to everything but the feeling of the man moving on top of him, and then he's got a fist around Keith and a hand in his hair, and he's being dragged up to Keith's own neck.

“ _Please-_ ”

He does his damnedest to make it last this time, releasing his jaw only to moan as Keith lets himself go between them, quickly following him over the edge.

His mouth tastes a little coppery when they lay panting together in the aftermath. Shiro is going to drag him so hard, but he can't be too bothered when he can feel the answering sting on his own neck.

“Whelp,” he croaks out, curling up in Keith's arms as he traces shapes on his chest, “I've been convinced you missed me... good job.”

Keith's huff ruffles his hair, even as his thumb strokes the throbbing mark on Matt's neck. “You owe me more than one round, you know.”

“When my legs aren't jelly,” Matt agrees, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Keith's throat that smells like home. “Heh... I got you good this time.”

“Not as good as yours.” Keith flashes a grin at him, all sharp teeth and playful eyes. It's unfair in more than one way.

“You know, I think the space cats were afraid of it,” he muses out loud and reaches up to trace the familiar mark. “I figure it made me look tough... like maybe I fought off a big Earth cat or something.”

The sound that escapes from Keith's chest is nothing short of a gurgle, and the hand that had been curled around Matt's waist comes up to cover Keith's familiar lilac blush.

“What?” Matt pouts at him and digs a knuckle into his ribs. “I could be intimidating... maybe they know about tigers!”

“Matt,” Keith whines – actually _whines_ – and spreads his fingers enough to peek through them. “No... it looks like a galra mating mark.”

“A what?” Matt squints at him, then leans over to squint at Keith's neck. “Like... they thought I was some other space cat's space-bitch or something?”

The muffled scream into his palm would be funny if Keith wasn't slowly but surely turning a shade close to plum.

“Sweetheart, darling, dearest... uh...” Matt grimaces and peels Keith's hand away, replacing it with his own. “You're looking awfully... purple?”

“I bet I am,” Keith sighs, rolling until he can bury his face in Matt's chest. “It's like a wedding ring, kinda.”

“Oh no shit...” Matt nods into his hair, idly tapping his fingers on Keith's spine. “How lucky is that? Accidentally space married before I even knew an alien.”

Another gurgle – this one more pronounced as Keith tries to smother himself in Matt's hard-won pecs.

“Aww, Kitten, don't be shy... I'd space marry you on purpose too.”

Keith's face is the strangest mix of devastated and hopeful that Matt's ever seen when he peeks up at him, like he's afraid that Matt is about to kick him out of bed for a little nibbling.

“Even if I'm a little more... uh... _space_ than you thought?”

He looks like he's about to gnaw a hole in his lip, or toss his space goo all over the bed.

“I don't get it,” Matt admits, stroking a thumb over the back of Keith's neck, “is this about that time I called you space cadet and you threw your milk at me? Cause I was trying to flirt with you.”

“No, I um...” Keith trails off, swallowing hard. His eyes glint yellow in the light as he flicks his gaze down and away.

Yellow.

“Holy _fuck-_ ” Matt wheezes, hands clamping down hard on his boyfriend's shoulders as he rolls on top of him, “holy shit, oh my god... are you actually a fucking alien?”

Keith winces, _hard._

“Oh fuck, no, I mean-” Matt shakes his head so hard it makes him momentarily dizzy, then flings himself down onto Keith's chest so he can't run. “I love you, Kitten, I swear, it's just... I'm gonna give Shiro _so much shit._ ”

Keith's coiled muscles loosen just a fraction in his confusion, hands still poised like he might push Matt off and flee naked into the night. “What?”

“Baby, you don't understand... I _told_ him!” Matt crows, grinning down at him like a maniac, unable to resist peppering Keith's beautiful _alien_ face in kisses. “I mean, I was mostly kidding, but I _knew_ it!”

“How?!” Keith sputters, thoroughly offended now that he's not in danger of losing his accidental space-husband. “I didn't even know it.”

“Buddy, come on.”

“Don't call me buddy with your dick on my hip,” Keith grumbles as he flushes that beautiful lilac hue.

“Sweetheart, lover, beautiful-” Matt sing-songs as he cups Keith's face. “Your eyes glow fucking yellow in the dark. You have _fangs_. You used to claw the fuck out of my ass, and I was so stupidly gone for you that I convinced myself you were just soooo special.” He shakes his head, half cackling at his own stupidity. “I was right and he was wrong... wrong, wrong, wrooooong.”

Keith finally cracks a smile and pulls Matt back down to his chest to rub their noses together. “I guess that's why he looked so annoyed when he found out then... I was worried he was actually mad at me.”

“Oh no, he could never.” Shiro would probably give himself cat ears and glowing eyes in support before making Keith feel bad about himself. “I just wish I could've been there when he realized I was right the whole time...”

“So um...” Nervous fingers fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck as Keith looks up at him. “You don't think it's weird or anything? And you'll still... be with me?”

“You could sprout ears and I'd only think you were cuter.” He punctuates the admission with a kiss, and then another, and one more – until he's covering Keith's entire blushing face and there's a rattling purr kicking up between them. “You could turn all purple and stripey and I'd get to tell everyone I have the universe's best space husband... I love you, Keith.”

Those beautiful eyes lock on his, full of love and hope as they glint yellow in the low light... and then he proves he's only gotten stronger when he punches Matt on the shoulder for asking if the bites count as a vow renewal.

Three hours later, he strolls into the kitchen covered in more mating bites with the world's most self-satisfied grin on his lips. Shiro's out of his seat like a gunshot, already reaching for the hug when he sees them, and his entire expression shifts into pained resignation.

“Matt,” he sighs as he pulls him in tight, clapping Matt on the back so hard he might be trying to rattle the knowledge out of him, “it's so good to see you... I knew you'd make it out.”

“You too Shiro...” he pauses, eyebrows wiggling as he watches the light of hope go out in Shiro's eyes, “and you know what else I knew?”

“...you're the worst.”


End file.
